Just my fiction about the Warhammer 40.000 universe taking place on the death-world of Freudakia, a place once of lush jungles and such, but now increasingly under the thumb of the industrial planet Ciralix and the Adeptus Mechanicus due to the planet's riches in mineral wealth. Freudakia is a Deathworld were camouflage is everything while visibility means exposure and plain death even the commissars have learned that lesson and embraced it with camo-cloaks and other items of misdirection.
The Emperor's Blood.
Chapter I
The Catachans were stealthily taking up positions in the Freudakian jungle. The hunt for the dreaded Warboss Draznob had gone on for quite a while. The losses had been astonishing on both sides, yet they knew even as they sat up their position they were likely doing their last ambush as they were low on anything. Many of the heavy weapons were without ammunition or had simply been overused and had malfunctioned. Even their simple lasguns was starting to show an immense wear and tear.
Even so the battle in the jungle was imminent, a huge horde of Orks were swarming in on their position. Colonel James Stremm gave his last commands. The Ogryn-sized big-jawed fellow with greyish crew-cut and huge muscles even for a Catachan retrieved his Heavy-Bolter Big Bertha for the final time loading it with the run-strap magazines and exited the camouflaged tent.
The Orks came swarming at the thin Imperial line, booby-traps and precise lasgun-fire leveled the first wave. The second wave was of tougher more heavily armed Orks. They shrugged off any but the best placed lasgun-shots. Even Big Bertha had problems whittling down the members of the Warboss’ retinue that slowly was charging towards his squad, having already cut a platoon to ribbons.
Two of the creatures were remaining charging towards Stremm and his bodyguards. He resigned himself to his fate looking at the immense mega-armoured Warboss and the almost as large Ork Nob just a few meters infront of the hulking creature in clanky black armour, yet a shadow intervened planting itself a few meters infront of the command-squad. The head of the Ork Nob came flying off, the body just ran off in a random direction with arms flailing to the sides dropping the crude yet highly advanced Ork weaponry, before it stumbled at some sandbags having no virtual control of how it ran around anymore just like chickens getting beheaded. While the head continued to insult Stremm who merely stomped on it to shut it up.
The shadow revealed itself. From his commissar-cap jutted golden hair, he was of average height for a human, though the Catachans would be much taller than him, as he turned they saw the well-known facial features of the Primarch Sanguinius while he span around making the mud splatter around him. Yet the way he carried himself, dignified, yet no way he was the beloved Primarch the Catachans had filed past so many times watching golden statues and beautiful paintings of in the churches and cathedrals they had been forced to visit by the Ministorum Priests which was mostly evident in his sadistic grin that was not the smile of the benevolent Primarch.
He stood there with his chainsword running as it spat out blood, clad in a non-spectacular blackened-out commissar-uniform with a furry greyish cape draped over his shoulders that seemed to devour the shadows as he moved making him hard to spot at even infractor-ligts. Yet he was in serious trouble because right behind him towered an Ork Warboss of epic proportions. “Another scumsucker bites the dust.” The commissar voiced it with gratification like he weren't aware of the threat right behind him, yet he spun around avoiding the hail of bullets the Ork fired after him as he jumped into a low ditch.
“How but me ooomie!?” The Ork gargled as it jumped after the commissar, who miraculously managed to dodge the Power Klaw-blow which he managed to make whistle past him, just barely grazing the black armour as he side-stepped bringing the Ork spiraling out of balance as it slid in the slippery brown mud. They started their deadly dance both beast and human.
Then the commissar attacked the plasma-weapon the Ork carried in his free hand. He let the chainsword tear into it as it flickered. The Ork tried to to fire it at the commissar but it promptly exploded pulping three of the five green fingers. The Ork rapidly regained it's footing striking after the commissar who just ducked and tore through the mighty mega-armoured knee-pad with his chainsword going through tearing a large chunk of the knee making a loud screaming noise getting the mighty Ork to unleash a mighty roar in shock and pain.
The commissar didn't even stop despite the bone-chilling cry of the Warboss as he then plunged his chainsword into the chest of his opponent before quickly ducking out of the way with his chainsword just having left an open wound there as it pumped blood out. The Warboss bellowed in pain, trying desperately to land a blow only to find the commissar gliding away from it while the chainsword tore into the arm of the beast while he narrowly escaping the gout of flame from the flamer of the Warboss.
Draznob tried yet again to land a blow with it's Power Klaw against his fleet-footed opponent despite the grounded fencing-stance he practiced as he slid under the Power Klaw coming up with his chainsword pouncing at the Power Klaw's more vulnerable back unleashing a small explosion as he disabling it with the spinning and hissing chainsword. Yet the free Ork-hand slammed the commissar into the nearest Freudakian hardwood making the low-peaked commissar-cap tumble far into the jungle as Draznob struck the commissar.
“That you shouldn't have done!” The commissar roared just as the Ork tried to raise the kombi-flamer attached to the Power Klaw towards him, though the Ork's wounds were slowing it down. The commissar was faster dropping while deactivating his chainsword to the ground and getting up his clanky dark-grey meltagun from his side in a chain.
The hissing meltagun immediately disabled the weapon as it vaporized the arm of the Ork. Yet the commissar made his first mistake in the duel buoyed up by seeing an easy kill, he ran closer to the Warboss roaring. “Now you die you beast!” He pulled the trigger again with the weapon aimed straight at the torso of the beast with only about a meter between them, but a forcefield erupted around the Warboss neutralizing the blast.
The one-armed bandit didn't let an opportunity go from him and pounced at the commissar who for once reacted too slow and got bodyslammed, only the protective power of his Rosarius saved him in a glitter of gold from having his intestines pulped and his bones broken due the force involved as half a ton of Ork Warboss encased in mega-armour hit him like a runaway freight-train with a loud crash as metal met metal. As they collided the Warboss snatched the meltagun away from the commissar tearing it off it's thick dark adamentum-chains while the commissar flew away in the opposite direction.
The man smashed into a large pine making it sway leaving a gaping wound on it as once more the Rosarius in a shower of gold activated cushioning the impact. A dangerous hairy spider immediately landed at the commissar's right black shoulder-epaulet, which immediately was thrown straight at Draznob, who caught and squashed it mid-air with his remaining hand while he snarled at the commissar that have proven to be be much more of a challenge than the Ork anticipated or liked. Next he felt a burning pain in his remaining shoulder and saw two poisoned knives the commissar doubtlessly had hidden in his black epaulets jutting out of his remaining shoulder. Just as he sped towards the huge Ork in the mud which splattered everywhere, he brandishing two new monofilament knives from his cerapace-encased torso as he had several more knives strapped to it menacingly with the knife-handles jutting out, though the cerapace by now was getting seriously cracked as the commissar moved rapidly in the mud despite the internal injuries he was beginning to feel. The commissar then jumped on Draznob with cat-like grace, all intent on finishing the job despite substantial injuries inside of him.
The knives slashed at the throat of the Ork while they went though the armour of it like cottage-cheese though it prevented the knives from going deep enough for a killing-blow as the commissar tried to avoid the huge fist of Draznob. It got him. It clenched hard around the struggling human. It was not enough for Draznob he was intent to finish this man once and for all thrashing the commissar around with a tight grip of his huge Orkish hand, and a surprising head-butt from the human brought the eye of Draznob into finger-distance of him. He slammed home an armoured finger tearing right into the eye it hard, hard metal tore into the soft tissue of the eye. The pain made Draznob ease his hold of the commissar who then got up his Uplifting Primer from inside his greatcoat.
That he brutally showed into the other eye, then came the las-chisel up, it was ignited. Draznob stopped. He stood there as a statue just leaning, with a burning small book inside his skull.
The commissar was anything but graceful now as he with a big goofy grin stumbled towards the Catachans, knowing full and well they likely would just butcher him for his trouble of saving the command-squad. He giggled like a small boy watching an Ogryn firing a Heavy Bolter in the distance, he knew his wounds were mortal.
He finally fell stumbling at an exposed root he dead-drunk wouldn't hit. He now tried to think about the Emperor. Instead visions of his life flashed before him. He saw his proud tutors at the Schola, how he himself advanced to become one, he saw his friends, he saw the good times and most of all he saw his fiancé and the children they had together.
Infact he saw only her as he landed face down in a puddle of mud, no more than an inch or two deep. He laid there dreaming letting go of life just seeing her sweet face. He knew he should focus on the Emperor yet her lure were stronger. He passed out trying to whisper her name with his last breath.
The Emperor's Blood.
Chapter I
The Catachans were stealthily taking up positions in the Freudakian jungle. The hunt for the dreaded Warboss Draznob had gone on for quite a while. The losses had been astonishing on both sides, yet they knew even as they sat up their position they were likely doing their last ambush as they were low on anything. Many of the heavy weapons were without ammunition or had simply been overused and had malfunctioned. Even their simple lasguns was starting to show an immense wear and tear.
Even so the battle in the jungle was imminent, a huge horde of Orks were swarming in on their position. Colonel James Stremm gave his last commands. The Ogryn-sized big-jawed fellow with greyish crew-cut and huge muscles even for a Catachan retrieved his Heavy-Bolter Big Bertha for the final time loading it with the run-strap magazines and exited the camouflaged tent.
The Orks came swarming at the thin Imperial line, booby-traps and precise lasgun-fire leveled the first wave. The second wave was of tougher more heavily armed Orks. They shrugged off any but the best placed lasgun-shots. Even Big Bertha had problems whittling down the members of the Warboss’ retinue that slowly was charging towards his squad, having already cut a platoon to ribbons.
Two of the creatures were remaining charging towards Stremm and his bodyguards. He resigned himself to his fate looking at the immense mega-armoured Warboss and the almost as large Ork Nob just a few meters infront of the hulking creature in clanky black armour, yet a shadow intervened planting itself a few meters infront of the command-squad. The head of the Ork Nob came flying off, the body just ran off in a random direction with arms flailing to the sides dropping the crude yet highly advanced Ork weaponry, before it stumbled at some sandbags having no virtual control of how it ran around anymore just like chickens getting beheaded. While the head continued to insult Stremm who merely stomped on it to shut it up.
The shadow revealed itself. From his commissar-cap jutted golden hair, he was of average height for a human, though the Catachans would be much taller than him, as he turned they saw the well-known facial features of the Primarch Sanguinius while he span around making the mud splatter around him. Yet the way he carried himself, dignified, yet no way he was the beloved Primarch the Catachans had filed past so many times watching golden statues and beautiful paintings of in the churches and cathedrals they had been forced to visit by the Ministorum Priests which was mostly evident in his sadistic grin that was not the smile of the benevolent Primarch.
He stood there with his chainsword running as it spat out blood, clad in a non-spectacular blackened-out commissar-uniform with a furry greyish cape draped over his shoulders that seemed to devour the shadows as he moved making him hard to spot at even infractor-ligts. Yet he was in serious trouble because right behind him towered an Ork Warboss of epic proportions. “Another scumsucker bites the dust.” The commissar voiced it with gratification like he weren't aware of the threat right behind him, yet he spun around avoiding the hail of bullets the Ork fired after him as he jumped into a low ditch.
“How but me ooomie!?” The Ork gargled as it jumped after the commissar, who miraculously managed to dodge the Power Klaw-blow which he managed to make whistle past him, just barely grazing the black armour as he side-stepped bringing the Ork spiraling out of balance as it slid in the slippery brown mud. They started their deadly dance both beast and human.
Then the commissar attacked the plasma-weapon the Ork carried in his free hand. He let the chainsword tear into it as it flickered. The Ork tried to to fire it at the commissar but it promptly exploded pulping three of the five green fingers. The Ork rapidly regained it's footing striking after the commissar who just ducked and tore through the mighty mega-armoured knee-pad with his chainsword going through tearing a large chunk of the knee making a loud screaming noise getting the mighty Ork to unleash a mighty roar in shock and pain.
The commissar didn't even stop despite the bone-chilling cry of the Warboss as he then plunged his chainsword into the chest of his opponent before quickly ducking out of the way with his chainsword just having left an open wound there as it pumped blood out. The Warboss bellowed in pain, trying desperately to land a blow only to find the commissar gliding away from it while the chainsword tore into the arm of the beast while he narrowly escaping the gout of flame from the flamer of the Warboss.
Draznob tried yet again to land a blow with it's Power Klaw against his fleet-footed opponent despite the grounded fencing-stance he practiced as he slid under the Power Klaw coming up with his chainsword pouncing at the Power Klaw's more vulnerable back unleashing a small explosion as he disabling it with the spinning and hissing chainsword. Yet the free Ork-hand slammed the commissar into the nearest Freudakian hardwood making the low-peaked commissar-cap tumble far into the jungle as Draznob struck the commissar.
“That you shouldn't have done!” The commissar roared just as the Ork tried to raise the kombi-flamer attached to the Power Klaw towards him, though the Ork's wounds were slowing it down. The commissar was faster dropping while deactivating his chainsword to the ground and getting up his clanky dark-grey meltagun from his side in a chain.
The hissing meltagun immediately disabled the weapon as it vaporized the arm of the Ork. Yet the commissar made his first mistake in the duel buoyed up by seeing an easy kill, he ran closer to the Warboss roaring. “Now you die you beast!” He pulled the trigger again with the weapon aimed straight at the torso of the beast with only about a meter between them, but a forcefield erupted around the Warboss neutralizing the blast.
The one-armed bandit didn't let an opportunity go from him and pounced at the commissar who for once reacted too slow and got bodyslammed, only the protective power of his Rosarius saved him in a glitter of gold from having his intestines pulped and his bones broken due the force involved as half a ton of Ork Warboss encased in mega-armour hit him like a runaway freight-train with a loud crash as metal met metal. As they collided the Warboss snatched the meltagun away from the commissar tearing it off it's thick dark adamentum-chains while the commissar flew away in the opposite direction.
The man smashed into a large pine making it sway leaving a gaping wound on it as once more the Rosarius in a shower of gold activated cushioning the impact. A dangerous hairy spider immediately landed at the commissar's right black shoulder-epaulet, which immediately was thrown straight at Draznob, who caught and squashed it mid-air with his remaining hand while he snarled at the commissar that have proven to be be much more of a challenge than the Ork anticipated or liked. Next he felt a burning pain in his remaining shoulder and saw two poisoned knives the commissar doubtlessly had hidden in his black epaulets jutting out of his remaining shoulder. Just as he sped towards the huge Ork in the mud which splattered everywhere, he brandishing two new monofilament knives from his cerapace-encased torso as he had several more knives strapped to it menacingly with the knife-handles jutting out, though the cerapace by now was getting seriously cracked as the commissar moved rapidly in the mud despite the internal injuries he was beginning to feel. The commissar then jumped on Draznob with cat-like grace, all intent on finishing the job despite substantial injuries inside of him.
The knives slashed at the throat of the Ork while they went though the armour of it like cottage-cheese though it prevented the knives from going deep enough for a killing-blow as the commissar tried to avoid the huge fist of Draznob. It got him. It clenched hard around the struggling human. It was not enough for Draznob he was intent to finish this man once and for all thrashing the commissar around with a tight grip of his huge Orkish hand, and a surprising head-butt from the human brought the eye of Draznob into finger-distance of him. He slammed home an armoured finger tearing right into the eye it hard, hard metal tore into the soft tissue of the eye. The pain made Draznob ease his hold of the commissar who then got up his Uplifting Primer from inside his greatcoat.
That he brutally showed into the other eye, then came the las-chisel up, it was ignited. Draznob stopped. He stood there as a statue just leaning, with a burning small book inside his skull.
The commissar was anything but graceful now as he with a big goofy grin stumbled towards the Catachans, knowing full and well they likely would just butcher him for his trouble of saving the command-squad. He giggled like a small boy watching an Ogryn firing a Heavy Bolter in the distance, he knew his wounds were mortal.
He finally fell stumbling at an exposed root he dead-drunk wouldn't hit. He now tried to think about the Emperor. Instead visions of his life flashed before him. He saw his proud tutors at the Schola, how he himself advanced to become one, he saw his friends, he saw the good times and most of all he saw his fiancé and the children they had together.
Infact he saw only her as he landed face down in a puddle of mud, no more than an inch or two deep. He laid there dreaming letting go of life just seeing her sweet face. He knew he should focus on the Emperor yet her lure were stronger. He passed out trying to whisper her name with his last breath.